


Forty Days

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Celibacy, Chromatic Character, Future Fic, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Rituals, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-30
Updated: 2009-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yeah, I don't know," Rodney agreed, hitting something with a wrench and then jolting back as blue sparks came out of a different crystal.  "It's not like I want to coerce him into having sex with us or abandoning the cultural traditions of his now-dead home planet or anything, but jeez, forty days?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forty Days

**Author's Note:**

> contains a very brief mention of (non-sexual) torture having happened in the past.

  
"So, anyway, I'll just be over here," Ronon concluded, wheeling the hospital cot into the corner of the room.

"Uh," Rodney said, looking at John, and then reconsidering and trying not to look at John.

Teyla found her voice. "As much as we all wish to honour your decision, Ronon," she began carefully, "is there any particular reason for it?"

Ronon shrugged and hopped up onto the cot. "It's traditional on your eightieth birthday."

"And you're turning eighty," John managed.

"Next week, yeah. In Satedan years."

"Okay," Rodney said. "So, okay, you're not having sex with us anymore? But you're going to sit over there and, and – "

Ronon glared at him until he stopped talking. "McKay. Do you ever even listen to anything I say? It's not forever, it's only for forty days, and it's not that I can't have sex."

"But," Rodney said, "So, it's a vow of – "

"Just no orgasms. And no sleeping together."

"That is the worst birthday party I've ever heard of," John said.

"Oh, and I can't fuck you guys. Well, except in the mouth."

They were all silent for a long moment.

"I agree with John," Teyla muttered.

*

It wasn't that John couldn't go forty days without sex. Forty days was nowhere near his record. And it wasn't even like he would have to go without sex: he would just have to deal with having two lovers for a little while instead of three, and really it seemed like a dumb thing to complain about when you put it like that.

But after Ronon had told them that morning that he would be sleeping on a cot for the next forty days, John had spent the whole day unable to get it out of his mind. They had taken a long time to build up this thing between them, the four of them; for years, they had danced around each other, switching off partners – John and Ronon, Teyla and Rodney, Ronon and Teyla, John and Rodney, sometimes overlapping but never, ever, talking about it – until that one night, when it was late and they were all just lying around John's room after a movie, when Ronon kissed Rodney's mouth but reached out and grabbed Teyla's wrist as she rose to leave, when Teyla and Rodney convinced John in turn, when they found themselves writhing together on the floor, Rodney fucking Ronon and John fucking Teyla for the first time, Teyla with her tongue in Ronon's ass, her hard-knuckled fingers, and John with his mouth on Rodney's cock, and all their hands everywhere and their mouths everywhere until they were lost together and locked together, until the tentative bonds between them had sharpened and coalesced into something new.

Ronon had been at the centre of it, was the thing. That was how John remembered it, anyway.

"What the hell is up with this thing with Ronon?" John said to Rodney finally, after tracking him down to an abandoned lab where he was working on something with crystals and levers that made red sparks shoot sporadically into the air.

"Yeah, I don't know," Rodney agreed, hitting something with a wrench and then jolting back as blue sparks came out of a different crystal. "It's not like I want to coerce him into having sex with us or abandoning the cultural traditions of his now-dead home planet or anything, but jeez, forty days?"

"Yeah," John said.

"Also, you realise, with him sleeping on that cot, you're next to Teyla in bed now."

John shifted from foot to foot. He hadn't considered that. "Rodney, I have sex with Teyla all the time. Teyla taught me that Athosian bear-wrestling thing. I trust Teyla with my life. She doesn't have cooties."

"Yeah," Rodney said, "and you love her, blah blah blah, but you hate sleeping with her. _Teyla_ – " he tapped three crystals in quick succession, " – likes sleeping naked and pressed up against someone, and you don't like that, you get too sweaty to sleep. Also possibly you have issues about not being gay enough, I'm not sure." Blue sparks, then red sparks. "Though you'd think that time that Ronon and I both fucked your ass simultaneously would've eased your mind on that one."

"Okay, fine," John said, his face heating. "You take the middle."

"Ah," Rodney said, with the air of someone who's already thought this through, "I would love to. I love sleeping with Teyla, she's like a furnace, and I get cold. Plus unlike you I enjoy the naked cuddling. But – "

"But you're not allowed in the middle anymore," John groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

Rodney nodded and connected a green crystal to a blue one. "Exactly. Just because I freaked out that one time."

"You jumped in the air and landed on Ronon's wrist," John pointed out. "He had to have physical therapy."

"Wearing a tensor bandage for three days is not physical therapy," Rodney countered. Then, with a grimace, he threw his wrench on the table and looked over at John. "The other possible solution is to put Teyla in the middle, on her side the way she likes, facing me."

"Yeah, but Teyla likes the edge," John sighed.

"It's mathematically impossible for us all to sleep well without Ronon in the bed, is what I'm saying."

Just then there was a knock at the open lab door, and Teyla walked in.

"Hey," John said.

Teyla frowned. "I have been considering our sleeping arrangements now that Ronon will not be in bed with us," she said, without preamble.

"We were just discussing that," Rodney agreed.

"John, I am afraid you will have to be in the middle."

" . . . okay," John grimaced. "But you have to wear a shirt so you're less sticky."

Rodney coughed. "Can I just say, I would be happy to be in the m—"

"No," Teyla and John said, vehemently, at the same time.

"Fine," Rodney agreed huffily. Picking up his wrench, he started poking at the spark-machine again. "See if I make either of you any snow cones when I get this thing figured out."

*

That night, Teyla tried not to let her behaviour towards Ronon change, but she knew that it had, felt a distasteful falseness in her own words and manner. She didn't know whether he would welcome her touch, or miss it if she refrained from touching, and she wasn't sure how to ask. Before she could decide on what to do – take his hand, perhaps, kiss his cheek – Ronon curled up quietly on his cot and pulled the blankets up around himself. The other three of them shuffled awkwardly around the bed, John glaring at Rodney until he took the edge, Teyla shrugging on an old t-shirt that she had taken from Rodney's drawer – black and soft with the word _Metallica_ emblazoned on the front.

Eventually, with them all in bed and with the lights out, it was almost like a normal night. They didn't have sex every night, after all, Teyla reasoned; there were plenty of occasions where some or all of them were too tired, or had to get up too early, or felt too out of sorts to even kiss. And it seemed rude for the three of them to have sex in front of Ronon.

Sighing, she rolled away from John and onto her back. She couldn't remember ever wanting them this badly, wanting them and not being able to have them. She wanted Rodney's clever fingers and she wanted the expression on John's face when she worked her hand inside him and she wanted Ronon, god she wanted Ronon, Ronon's strong arms, his powerful thighs, the broad toothy smile that he wore after fucking.

"Ronon," she said, in the dark. Rodney was fidgeting and Ronon was breathing through his nose and John was lying still: no one was asleep yet.

"Yeah."

"Will you come over here, and let me kiss you?"

There was the creaking sound of Ronon standing up, and the sound of his feet padding over to her. He knelt down.

"Sure," he breathed. And he held still while she cupped his jaw and kissed him, alternating soft and hard, their tongues tangling together, the way they both liked.

When they had just pulled apart, Rodney coughed. Teyla felt Ronon smile against her cheek.

"C'mere, McKay," he said. Rodney did, crawling over John and leaning over Teyla and kissing Ronon's mouth slowly, tenderly.

When Rodney settled back into place, John sat up wordlessly, his movements a little awkward as he took his turn. Teyla relished the friction of his thigh against hers beneath the covers as he writhed slowly under the pleasure of Ronon's mouth. Ronon's thumbs brushed gently against the bright silver at John's temples, once, twice.

When he returned to the cot, Teyla rolled back onto her side, facing John, and pressed her thighs together briefly, letting her body pulse with a tiny jolt of pleasure. Her ardour had, if anything, increased, but nonetheless she felt more settled now, like she could sleep. She slung a leg over John's unresisting thigh, and breathed deeply, and closed her eyes.

*

"You guys can have sex, if you like," Ronon said the next evening, as they lay sprawled out together on the couch watching _Live Free or Die Hard_ for the sixth time. "I don't mind."

"I have a headache," John almost shouted, way too quickly.

Rodney nodded his enthusiastic agreement. "I threw my back out, uh, lifting something. In my lab."

"Bleeding," Teyla said shortly. "Cramps."

Ronon's brow furrowed. "You're not due for another two weeks," he said. Teyla shrugged.

"And you like having sex when you're bleeding."

"Ah," Teyla said.

Later they all kissed him goodnight, and kept their hands above the neck, and lay quiet and still in the dark and didn't touch him, and didn't touch each other.

*

Rodney was pretty surprised when Ronon showed up in the main lab the next day, and even more surprised when he pushed Rodney into his office and locked the door behind them.

"Uh, isn't this – jesus, _fuck_ – against the, against the rules?" Rodney managed, a few minutes later.

Ronon rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist. "How many times do I have to tell you? I can have sex, I just can't – "

"Come, right," Rodney said faintly, as Ronon's hand pumped a little faster, his big fist holding their cocks together, squeezing, the underside of Rodney's dick rubbing gloriously against Ronon's. He pushed his hips forward and reached up to wrap his arms around Ronon's shoulders, to bury his face in Ronon's neck and hang on.

"C'mon, McKay, c'mon," Ronon muttered, panting hot against Rodney's ear in the way he did when he was about to, to –

Rodney groaned and came all over his shirt, all over Ronon's wrist, closing his eyes tight and giving in to the hard, steady pressure of Ronon's fingers and Ronon's body, holding him tight, holding him against the wall.

He took a second to catch his breath, then kissed him, wet and deep and lingering, the way they both liked.

"Do you, do you want me to – " Rodney gestured hesitantly down. Ronon still had one hand loosely gripping his hard cock.

Ronon's eyes slipped closed, and he put his palms on the wall on either side of Rodney's head, bending to press his lips to Rodney's forehead, not quite kissing. "Yeah, just – only a little. I can take it. But. Slow. Please." His voice was gravelly and low, rough.

"Okay," Rodney whispered. He took Ronon's cock in his hand and palmed it lightly, just a gentle, loose fist stroking up and down, up and down. Ronon's breath came in long stuttered exhalations that ruffled the hair behind Rodney's ear. He shifted his hips, only slightly, as if he wanted to press into Rodney's hand, or fuck into Rodney's fist, but couldn't let himself. And against the wall to Rodney's left, his right hand closed into a tight fist, his knuckles scraping rhythmically against the cool metallic surface. Ronon pressed his body against Rodney's and breathed hard and held on and on, as Rodney gave him never quite enough pressure, as Rodney thumbed just a little too slowly over the head of his cock, as Rodney squeezed and then stopped, squeezed and then stopped.

"More," Ronon said. "Just – a little."

When Ronon opened his eyes, Rodney met his gaze wide-eyed and gave him a little more, a little harder, a little faster. Ronon groaned, his head falling down, and bit Rodney's neck lightly. Rodney did his best to keep up the pace, to keep the angle and his grip the same, even though he was going half out of his mind with the desperate, distantly-remembered injunction against actually getting Ronon off. Ronon moaned against his neck, and for one blissful second, thrust up hard into Rodney's waiting hand.

"Rodney," he groaned, and went still.

They stood together like that for a moment, before Ronon pulled back abruptly, kissed Rodney, grinned widely, and kissed Rodney again. And then he did up his pants over his erection and got out of there, fast, flashing another quick grin over his shoulder as he went.

Rodney cleaned himself up as best he could, what with the limited supplies in his office and the way his hands were trembling.

"Maybe not the worst birthday party _ever_ ," he muttered, and slid a hand through his thinning hair before going back out into the lab.

*

John rooted through the DVDs, looking for something with as many explosions and as little sex as possible. Tomorrow was fake-Sunday, which meant that tonight would traditionally be anyone-who-wants-it-gets-fucked-or-tied-up, make-a-special-request night, the night before the day when they all got to sleep in together. If he got fucked for long enough, even Rodney would sleep in, and could be kept out of the labs until four or five in the afternoon. That was usually Ronon's job, though, so John figured that Rodney would be doing science bright and early the next morning.

As John squinted suspiciously at the case for Star Trek XIV – Teyla had a thing for the new Uhura, and Rodney had a thing for the new Enterprise, so it might not be the best choice for Team Celibacy Party – Rodney walked in and leaned against the door when it shut behind him, as if he had just managed to escape from an angry mob. John didn't ask, just cocked an eyebrow at him and waited.

"So, this afternoon I got a really great, and I do mean top-of-the-line, semi-public handjob," Rodney said.

John blinked. "Teyla doesn't give handjobs," he said. She'd had seven fingers broken by a professional torturer on M1M-1M7 a few years back, and ever since had found quick repetitive motion easily tiring; she mostly stuck to blowjobs. And John was pretty sure that he hadn't given Rodney a handjob today. He thought back on the day's events – inventory, meeting with Lorne, meeting with Tanaka, other administrative busywork – but couldn't recall having seen Rodney's dick at all.

"Are you cheating on us?" he said, giving Rodney the same narrow-eyed look he'd just given the DVD. "Or did you – holy shit, do you mean _Ronon_?"

Rodney nodded. "It was ridiculously hot," he said, talking fast. "He cornered me in the lab. I don't even think I'm _supposed_ to find it that hot that he – that he can't – "

"Jesus," John breathed.

Rodney's shoulders slumped as he pushed away from the door and sat down on the couch, sighing. "I'm a really bad person," he moaned.

"Did you – did he – " John couldn't get the image out of his brain: Ronon pushing Rodney against the wall, Ronon hard but holding back, Rodney maybe touching him, slowly, carefully.

"I did, and he didn't." Rodney answered, definitively.

"Wow," John said.

Just then the door opened again, and Ronon and Teyla walked in. Ronon was touching her arm, and Teyla had a look of determination on her face.

"Ah, everyone is home early," she said, as if this wasn't actually the best news she could've heard.

"What're you guys doing?" Ronon asked, looking between John and Rodney.

"Nothing," Rodney answered quickly. "We're not doing anything."

John wordlessly held up Star Trek XIV.

"Why not?" Ronon asked. Behind his back, Teyla was trying to mime some sort of information at them, something like 'Ronon is making you an omlette' or 'make sure to milk the cows.' John stared at her in horror for a second, but then was distracted by Ronon, who kneeled on the floor next to him, took the DVD out of his hand, and kissed his neck. His mouth was hot and his beard scratched at the sensitive skin below John's chin, and John squirmed in pleasure at the sudden sensation. He raised his hands almost instinctively, then lowered them; but when he caught a glimpse of Teyla over Ronon's shoulder, making encouraging hand motions, he raised them again and touched Ronon's biceps lightly with his palms.

"There you go," Ronon mumbled, "Easy." And he moved up to take John's mouth.

John had his eyes closed, so he didn't notice at first when Ronon caught Rodney's wrist and pulled him down to the floor, but he felt it when Teyla knelt behind him, pressing hard against him and reaching around him to stroke Ronon's short, wavy hair. When Ronon pulled away from his mouth, he opened his eyes and saw that Rodney had taken the same position behind Ronon, the four of them lined up neatly together.

"So I guess 'I'm taking a vow of celibacy' means something different on Sateda than it does on Earth," Rodney said. He was kissing the nape of Ronon's neck slowly, deliberately.

"Yeah, probably," Ronon agreed easily.

"We all thought you would not want to be tempted," Teyla said quietly. Her fingers carded through Ronon's hair and down to his jaw. Encouraged, John slid his hands down to Ronon's waist. The feeling of Ronon's muscles, the shape of him under his clothes, was completely familiar and somehow new at the same time.

Ronon shrugged. "That's not really what it's about," he said.

The stillness of the moment was getting to John, so he leaned forward and kissed Ronon again, this time giving into it, rubbing his tongue against Ronon's and exchanging slow, teasing bites. The way they both liked.

"Fuck me," Ronon breathed, when John broke his mouth away, when John had to stop and rest his forehead against Ronon's shoulder. Behind him, Teyla soothed her palms against John's body, reaching around him and under his shirt to touch the soft skin of his belly.

"Yeah, okay," John said, not moving.

"We're moving to the bed," Rodney said immediately. "My knees can't take the floor."

Neither could Ronon's, since he tore his ACL a few years back. But they mostly didn't mention that, because Ronon, despite being a hulking superhero in the prime of his life, was absurdly sensitive to any implication that he might have human limits. John raised his head and smiled at Rodney over Ronon's shoulder, grateful to him, as always, for being the one to wimp out for the greater good. Not least because having sex on the floor always made the old bullet wound in John's shoulder ache. Rodney shrugged good-naturedly back at him, and they all walked to the bed, removing their clothes carefully, deliberately.

Ronon got on the bed first, crawled forward naked and beautiful to rest his head on his folded arms, his hips on one of the thick blue pillows.

John ran a hand over the curve of Ronon's ass, considering. "Is this – are you sure?" he heard himself say. He'd fucked Ronon dozens of times, in every position they could come up with, fast, slow, sweet, angry. Once against the one-way mirror in a Genii interrogation room. More than once sitting in the pilot's seat of a jumper, flying through space, with Ronon straddling his thighs. This was different.

Ronon laughed a little and spread his thighs. "Pretty sure." When John put a tentative finger into Ronon's hole, he found him already wet and slick.

"Fuck," John said, under his breath.

"Yeah, that's pretty hot," Rodney said, coming to lie beside them.

"Mmmm," Teyla agreed, coming to lie on top of Rodney. She braced her knees on either side of Rodney's waist and leaned forward; Rodney liked using his mouth and Teyla liked having her nipples sucked, so they usually got along pretty well. Rodney curved a broad hand around the curve of Teyla's breast and applied himself eagerly. Teyla didn't take her eyes away from where John now had three fingers in Ronon's ass.

Ronon pushed back against him impatiently. "I already did that," Ronon said. The muscles in his thighs bunched and shifted as he twisted into the sensation. "Earlier."

"Okay," John said faintly, and guided the head of his cock into Ronon's ass. It felt amazing, like it always did – Ronon believed in exercising _all_ the muscles of the body – so that when John slid all the way in with one smooth push he had to grab desperately at Ronon's hips and hang on for a second, just breathing, to keep himself from coming.

A quick glance over at Rodney and Teyla didn't help, either; she had her knees on either side of Rodney's head, now, and was grinding down onto him, eagerly fucking his face as he smoothed his hands gently up and down her broad, muscled thighs. Her breasts bounced, her nipples still gleaming wet and tight from Rodney's mouth. John groaned and shifted around on his knees to find a better angle.

"Anytime, Sheppard," Ronon said. The bastard sounded like he was laughing, but also just a little out of breath. Almost without thinking, John reached a hand around and gripped Ronon's cock as he pulled out and thrust in again, hard. It was a favourite move of Ronon's, but when John realised what he'd done he dropped Ronon's dick like it had burned him.

"Shit, sorry," he panted, hotly, into Ronon's back.

"S'okay," Ronon said. He wasn't laughing anymore. "Do it again."

John slowed way down, stroking out of Ronon inch by inch, pausing with the tip of his cock just barely holding Ronon open. Ronon made a low growling noise deep in his throat.

"Harder," Teyla groaned. John looked up and met her gaze. He didn't know if she was talking to him or to Rodney, but the way she bit her lip suddenly told him that Rodney, at least, had obeyed her. Taking a deep breath, John did too, not going much faster but shoving in hard, then pulling out slowly to do it again, again, with enough force to shove Ronon up the bed.

"Fuck," Ronon said, on one thrust, then, "John," he said on the next; "John" and "John" and "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ " like a litany as John gave it to him, sweating and taking fast, ruthless breaths, as John's world narrowed down to the hard, perfect feeling of Ronon clenching around him, shoving back against him, fucking him back.

Beside him, Rodney shifted, his hand reaching out and brushing John's thigh, and John opened his eyes just in time to see Rodney's hand clasp around his, holding on, grounding him as Teyla, panting, did the same for Ronon, her hand gripping his upper arm, completing the circuit.

"Oh, oh, Rodney, yes, just – like – oh, yes, that," she said, her fingers digging further into Ronon's shoulder, her head thrown back, her neck bared, coming all over Rodney's chin, into Rodney's mouth. Rodney whimpered and thrust his hips into the air, his dick red and hard against his stomach, still untouched. John held his hand even tighter and fucked into Ronon again, keeping up the pace, lost in it now. In his peripheral vision, Teyla eased down Rodney's body and pulled his dick between her thighs, holding him against her wet cunt and shifting slowly up and down, first one leg and then the other, to give him friction.

"Jesus, Teyla, that's – " Rodney interrupted himself, cupping the back of her neck with his palm, pulling her down for a long, dirty kiss. He thrust up against her and she pushed down into him, once, twice, settling into a fast, hard rhythm that matched the rough, punishing pace that John was setting as he pounded into Ronon's body.

"John," Ronon said again, squeezing his ass around John's cock, "God, Sheppard, you have to – will you – fucking come, already, I can't, I can't – "

Ronon's voice broke, and John cried out and came, buried deep inside. Ronon squeezed around him one more time, just as he was coming down, and John was hit with another long wave of pleasure that rolled over him like a second orgasm and left him exhausted, spent.

Beneath him, Ronon was panting hard, and John could see that his thighs were trembling with exertion. Slowly, he pulled out. Ronon flipped over almost immediately.

"Please," he said, and John hesitated, but Rodney didn't – he guided their joined hands together to Ronon's stomach, then disentangled their fingers enough to let them both wrap around his dick, stroking together gently, slowing down gradually as Ronon's breathing evened out.

"Easy," John said, as Rodney guided him into a soft upstroke, "easy, Ronon." Ronon stopped thrusting with his hips and visibly relaxed into the bed beneath him. He closed his eyes and flung an arm over his face as Rodney and John worked him, gently, together.

Teyla writhed a little faster on top of Rodney, leaning down to kiss him deeply as she got her hand between them for a little extra friction. Rodney moaned into Teyla's mouth and came suddenly all over her thighs, and his grip wavered a little on Ronon's dick, then stilled; John slowed and stilled, too, coming to a natural stop.

Ronon looked up at John with an expression that he'd never seen on him before – excitement, yes, and frustration, but something else too, a deep kind of satisfaction that John couldn't quite place.

Rodney blinked and squirmed out from under Teyla. Reaching up, he put his lips to the soft skin below Ronon's ear.

Teyla watched for a moment and then did it too, half-splayed across Rodney's waist to pinch and roll one of Ronon's nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

"You okay, buddy?" John asked. His hand was still on Ronon's dick.

Ronon didn't answer right away. Instead he found John's other hand, intertwined their fingers, and tugged, pulling John a little closer. He cupped John's hand around his jaw for a moment, and then turned his head to press a wet, ticklish kiss to John's palm.

"We don't have to stop," Ronon said, after a long moment had passed. "Come here."

John went. Along the way up Ronon's body he stopped to kiss Teyla, then Rodney, slowly, unhurriedly, the way they almost never did.

"Hey," he said, when he was finally stretched on the bed beside Ronon, their foreheads pressing together. He put his hand over Ronon's hard dick, just resting there, cupping him.

"Hey," Ronon said back. Teyla and Rodney were settling in on the other side, still pressing sweet occasional kisses to Ronon's neck or chest or collarbone, colliding every now and then and laughing, poking and swatting at each other.

Eventually, Rodney sighed deeply and pushed his nose into the hollow of Ronon's armpit for a second, resting. Then he lifted his head. "Who's hungry?" he asked brightly.

Teyla smiled. "I could eat," she allowed.

"Yeah, me too," Ronon said easily. His cock was softening slowly under John's hand. "Sheppard?"

John felt a wide grin break out on his face.

*

The first week was the hardest; Teyla tried to navigate around Ronon's desires, kissing him or fucking him or leaving him alone when he needed it, but she had always found him somewhat hard to read, and he still had the capacity to surprise her. She knew that John and Rodney were struggling in the same way, but nevertheless she could not quite put her finger on the problem; aside from Ronon's absence from their bed at night, and the changes in their sexual practices, nothing had changed.

And yet everything had changed.

In the second week, they had relaxed into each other again as the three of them gradually got comfortable around Ronon, trusting him to know his own limits. Teyla had expected that, even if Ronon wanted to have sex with them, he wouldn't want to do it too often. But that hadn't been the case. As the days went by, he got more and more desperate for it, hungry, would find Teyla in the gym or in her office and kiss her and undress her and finger her slowly, eyes glittering, or ask for her mouth on him. She always obliged him, never knowing if she was helping or hindering the task he had undertaken. She came again and again in his arms, against his thick strong tongue, riding his hand or his fist.

More than once, he came to her for guidance in meditation, which was perhaps the strangest part of the entire experience.

In the evenings, the three of them focused increasingly on Ronon, finding new ways to tease and touch and explore; Ronon in turn pleasured them all with his quick, broad fingers and able mouth, drawing it out, making them wait for climax in an echo of his own deferred satisfaction.

Teyla had thought that she had known intimacy, but it had never been anything like this, nothing.

On day twenty, she pulled leather straps snug around her thighs and took her turn after Rodney and John, fucking her cock into Ronon while the other two held him through it;

On day twenty-six, after a rough offworld mission and a long hot shower, Rodney spent nearly an hour licking Ronon's asshole, fingering him now and then when his jaw got tired, pressing a thumb lightly to his perineum, then drawing away;

On days thirty-one and thirty-two, they didn't even get their clothes off, just kissed each other and rolled around in the blankets and laughed when John fell off the bed;

On day thirty-eight, Ronon asked to watch.

The three of them took the bed while Ronon settled down on his cot, lying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow.

"What do you want us to do?" Teyla asked, pulling off her shirt.

"Whatever you like," Ronon said. He had taken off his shirt before lying down, and now was undoing his pants with one hand, lazily flicking the buttons one by one.

Rodney shimmied out of his boxers and shuffled back on the bed. "I have a suggestion," he said. He turned to John and waved his hand impatiently. "Come here, come on."

John went, an amused smile on his face, and let Rodney push him around on the bed until he was on his side with Rodney curled behind him. Teyla grasped what he was doing immediately and kicked off the last of her clothing before lying down on John's other side, facing him.

"I'm always in the middle these days," John complained. "Ronon, buddy, you gotta finish off this celibacy thing soon, okay?"

"Two more days," Ronon growled. When Teyla glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he was languorously trailing a wet finger over his own nipple.

"I have another idea," Teyla said, and rolled over to present John with her back instead. "If you don't mind, John?"

"I'm good," John said equitably.

"It is just that you look so beautiful, Ronon," she continued, pitching her voice low. "Laid out like that, where we can see you, but can't touch you." She lifted her thigh and hooked it back over John's leg, bumping into Rodney on the other side. John pushed against her and his arm came around her waist, his fingertips finding the hot underside of her breast. She could feel his cock hardening rapidly between her thighs. "I want to see you."

"But in that position you can't see them fucking behind you," Ronon objected, reasonably.

Teyla grinned at him. "So tell me," she said.

Ronon's breath hitched in surprise. He pushed his pants all the way down, off his legs, and ran his fingers lightly over his thighs.

"God, Teyla," Rodney said from behind her. "You're a _genius_ , have I ever told you that? You – oh god, John, can you just. hold. still. for one second – "

"C'mon, Rodney," John drawled, amused. He flicked at her nipple and kissed her neck, easing between her legs to rub the flared head of his dick against the lips of her cunt. It felt wonderful.

"I am sure I am missing out," Teyla cajoled, resisting the urge to turn her head and watch as Rodney prepared to fuck John. "Tell me."

Ronon's palm curled slowly around his dick. "Rodney's got his fingers in John's ass," he said, all in a rush.

"Yes," she said. John slipped deliciously into her. She got two fingers on her clit and rubbed herself in easy little circles. Ronon met her gaze and matched her pace, squeezing his dick in time with the motion of her wrist.

"And John's got that look on his face, like he can't wait to get fucked. You know the one."

"Hey," John panted halfheartedly.

"It's true, you do look, look like that," Rodney agreed, sounding a little rough himself.

Ronon sped up just a little. "And, Teyla, fuck – Rodney's inside him now, they're – "

"Fucking, yes." Teyla could feel it, the reverberation of Rodney's thrust echoing through John and into her, the three of them coming together into a chain of sensation. She shoved forward into her own hand and then back against John, smiling a moment later when Rodney groaned.

Ronon's eyes flicked closed briefly before opening again. "You look really good," he said, sounding strained. "I want to be over there with you. I want to fuck you, all of you, one at a time. Slowly."

"Yes," Teyla said. John was thrusting faster now, and she was beginning to clench around him already, just watching Ronon with his hand on his dick, watching Ronon not allow himself to come. Her fingers sped up on her clit, pressed harder.

"I've missed that," Ronon went on.

Teyla groaned at the sweet slide of John inside her, then found her voice again. "What are you going to do?" Ronon didn't say anything, so Teyla prompted him. "You've thought it through, surely."

"Rodney bent over the desk in his office," Ronon gasped, the words spilling out of him, "John on the bed, facedown, tied up – "

Behind her, John moaned and pushed his face into Teyla's shoulder; Rodney fucked him faster, breathing hard. A hand curled around Teyla's shoulder, and she was surprised to find that it was Rodney's, rather than John's. She gasped as it clenched against her bicep in time with the quick, hard thrusts of John's body into her own.

Teyla closed her eyes. "And me, Ronon," she whispered.

"Against a wall," he choked out, "with your legs around my back and, and your hands in my hair, Teyla, oh – "

  
Crying out, Teyla thrust down against her fingers and came, the sensation shuddering roughly through her. John fucked her through it, not stopping or slowing, drawing it out until she could no longer feel her own body, no longer feel anything but her own body.

"John, jesus, jesus, fuck," Rodney was saying, a low helpless litany of curses as he fucked faster and faster, then gave a low, strangled cry.

"Teyla," John said behind her, speeding up too, "Teyla, I'm going to – oh, _fuck_ , Rodney – "

She flexed her internal muscles around him and urged him forward with her ankle hooked around his calf. John gave a muffled cry and pushed into her and held still, biting the nape of her neck as he came. He dragged her down again, into another hot wave of pleasure, less intense than the first but enough to make her groan aloud along with him.

Eventually, as John slipped out of her body, Teyla managed to open her eyes. Across the room, still on his side on the little cot, Ronon looked lost, looked wrecked, his face open and pleading as his hand sped up on his dick.

"Please," he was saying, "Teyla," and Teyla levered herself up off the bed as quickly as she could and went to him, pushed him down onto his back and climbed on top of him.

"Shhhh," she said, getting her knees on his thighs and pulling his hand from his cock. She gathered his wrists in her hands and pinned them above his head. He writhed beneath her.

"Please," he said again, so she found some more leverage and pushed down harder, holding his knees with her ankles and using her thighs to pin his pelvis: giving him what he needed. His cock was caught between them, brushing her stomach, so she tried not to move and held him through it, keeping him still as his breathing slowed down and his eyes flashed open.

She smiled at him. "Okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. His voice sounded hoarse.

She lifted her body off of his, keeping him pinned at wrists and thighs. She gave him some time, then kissed his lips gently.

"Two more days," she said, and smiled. "You pick the wall."

*

On day thirty-nine, Rodney's database query finally came back with results.

"I cannot believe this," he shouted, bursting into their rooms where the life-signs detector had told him that they were.

"There's pretzels," John said, not looking up from his month-old newspaper, but shoving the bowl vaguely in Rodney's direction.

"What? No! Well, maybe later. Look at this!" Rodney gestured at the printout in his hand.

Teyla came out of the bathroom. "What is the matter?"

"The matter," Rodney scowled, "is that Ronon – where the hell is Ronon?" He blinked, then whipped off the little glasses that he wore for close work and took in the room around him. Ronon was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm meditating, asshole," Ronon called from the bedroom. "Maybe you could keep it down."

"Yes, well, I'd be happy to respect your alone time if I didn't have to deliver the breaking news that you are a _giant liar_ ," Rodney yelled back.

John and Teyla stared at him, horrified, but after a few seconds Ronon shuffled out of the bedroom.

"What?" he said.

"Satedan Devotional Practices," Rodney read out, putting his folded glasses over his eyes just long enough to read from the paper in his hand.

"Rodney," Teyla said, patient from long practice, "start from the beginning."

Rodney closed his eyes and tried to think. "Okay, okay, so, a couple weeks ago I decided to look up this eightieth-birthday thing of Ronon's in the database."

"Why?" Ronon said, eyes narrowing.

"I don't – I thought – well, I thought that if I knew more about it, I could, uh, help. Somehow."

"I didn't want you to do that," Ronon growled.

"No, obviously you didn't, since as it turns out there is no such thing as an eightieth birthday Satedan celibacy vow," Rodney shot back.

John's eyebrows shot up into his hair. "There isn't?"

"No, there isn't. So I refined my search terms, and it took a few tries, but _this_ is what I eventually came up with!" He pointed triumphantly at the printout he was holding.

"Satedan Devotional Practices," Teyla said slowly. "Does that mean – "

"You married us!" Rodney shouted at Ronon. "That's what this whole celibacy vow thing was about. You married us, and you didn't tell us! You didn't tell _me_!"

"Jeez, McKay," Ronon said, rolling his eyes. "Not everything is about you."

"Oh, excuse me if I think that when you're getting married, you should probably inform the, the . . . "

"The bride?" John offered, innocently.

This slowed Rodney down for a second or two, but he recovered fast, glaring at John. "Yes, sure, fine, the bride, I'll be the woman, god knows Teyla's too butch and you're too gay – "

"Rodney," Teyla cautioned. Then, breathing deeply, she turned to Ronon. "Is this true, Ronon? Did you get married to the three of us and not mention it?"

Now Ronon looked uncomfortable. "It's, uh, it's not really a big deal," he began.

"I think it's kind of a big deal, buddy," John said, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Ronon sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. "See, I knew you guys would freak out. It's, on Sateda, when you marry someone, they don't necessarily have to get married to you. So it's not like you guys – you're not bound to me, or anything. Nothing's changed."

Rodney felt the anger and umbrage drain out of him all in a rush. "I – " he began, and then stopped. "Ronon, I – " suddenly he felt embarrassingly on the verge of tears.

"That's bullshit," John said, rescuing him.

"Indeed," Teyla agreed darkly. She sat down next to Ronon. John looked meaningfully over at Rodney, and they followed her to sit down too.

"We're – we're bound to you," Rodney said. "Um." Hesitantly, he put his hand over Ronon's.

"I feel like something has changed," Teyla said, softly. And she took Ronon's other hand.

John looked at the three of them awkwardly, then leaned across the table to put his hand on Ronon's arm, just above where Teyla was twining their fingers together.

"What they said," he muttered. "You know that."

Ronon's lips quirked upwards slowly. "Okay," he said, shrugging equitably. "If you want."

"Uh, but I want to make it clear that I'm not going to go forty days without an orgasm," Rodney said quickly. John and Teyla both kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"Perhaps we can find other gestures of equivalent cultural significance," Teyla suggested, rolling her eyes.

Ronon's grin got wider, and he ducked his head for a second before raising his eyes again, looking at each of them in turn. "Cool," he said.

*

On day forty-one, Ronon woke early, before the sun. The city's lights shone through the window, giving him enough light to navigate. As quietly as he could, he folded up the cot, crossed the room, and nudged Teyla awake.

She blinked at him slowly. He put a finger to his lips.

"Shove over," he whispered.

Smiling at him, she did, making a space between her and John. Ronon climbed over her and crawled under the covers that she held up for him. Once he was settled, she kissed his neck sleepily.

"I am glad to have you back," she said in his ear. Beside him, John stirred as Ronon shifted next to him.

"Ronon?" he said, barely opening his eyes. Ronon kissed his mouth softly.

"Yeah," he said.

"Hmmmmm?" Rodney murmured, from the other side of John. "Whazzat?" His head poked up from behind John's shoulder, a gentle, fuzzy smile spreading across his face.

Ronon found Rodney's hand, brought it to his lips, kissed the rough knuckles.

"Hi," Rodney said.

And John shuffled a little closer, and Teyla wrapped a warm arm around his middle, and Rodney held his hand, his thumb stroking against Ronon's wrist, slowly, as they all fell back to sleep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Forty Days (podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/284503) by [susan_voight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susan_voight/pseuds/susan_voight)




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